The Sick Bay
by TwentyOneCatWhiskers
Summary: London at night is a beautiful thing; all the lights everywhere make the whole city look like some sort of futuristic jungle of neon. Phil Lester was especially enjoying the magic of it all. It was just as well, as little did he know, it was the last glimpse of outside that he would probably ever get... (Platonic [but still fluffy] Phan. Reviews greatly encouraged!)
1. London at Midnight

London at night is a truly beautiful thing: all the illuminations everywhere make the whole city look like some sort of futuristic jungle of neon lights.

Even at midnight, the city was positively buzzing with life.

One person who would usually be appreciating the lights and bright colours was Phil Lester, but right now, he wasn't bothered about sparkly things and scenery because he was too engrossed in his fascinating conversation with his best friend, Dan Howell.

Dan and Phil had just returned from an enjoyable night out and were now travelling home in a taxi, talking about anything and everything. The taxi driver was probably fed up of their constant chatter, but he couldn't complain – he was getting paid for it, after all.

Phil's eyes were awake as ever, his bright blue irises staring across to Dan as he told an interesting tale of another weird incident that had happened with a stranger. Phil always had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which resulted in some rather eccentric stories.

As he told his tale, the lights from outside reflected off his glasses and onto Dan's face, creating a music-video-like effect.

But this story isn't about lights, reflections and Phil being awkward – this story is about Dan.

Dan had an unbelievable connection with his best friend and housemate, and this night, all he could think about was how far they'd come together. Who would have thought that his 'Hello Internet' and Phil's Video Blog from 2006 would have landed them here?

Dan laughed as his friend finished his story, though he hadn't really been listening: it was too hard to concentrate with those huge eyes gazing at him with that air that they always had: a look of delight and excitement over the smallest of things. Dan would never tire of seeing that smile – it would always cheer him up after a long day.

"Hey, Phil, look! We're almost home!" He chirped, cheerily, staring over Phil's shoulder and out of the window.

Phil turned around to see the familiar surroundings of their neighbourhood and smiled wider before he yawned, which made Dan yawn, too.

Dan would be glad to be home: he was exhausted, dehydrated and really needed a lie down. Besides, the sooner he could go to sleep, the sooner he could wake up in the morning and start filming a new video.

"Oh, Dan, I have the best idea for a video!" Phil exclaimed, cheerily, out of the blue, "I almost forgot to tell you!"

"What is it?" Dan asked, his face lighting up in excitement. He was running out of ideas recently and even though Phil made him do the weirdest things in his videos sometimes, he hadn't uploaded in months and he was getting desperate.

"I'll tell you when we get home," Phil replied, "I'm sure you'll like it; I've been planning it all week."

"Can't wait to hear it," Dan smiled, eagerly, "You always have the best video ideas."

"Thanks, Dan-," Phil started, but suddenly his grin fell to a frown and he cocked his head to the side as if he was listening for something, "Do you hear that?" He asked.

"Hear what?" Dan asked.

"That beeping. Really loud."

"Have you got tinitus, Phil?"

"No, just listen," Phil replied, "It's like a siren."

Dan listened. He could hear it, too.

"Oh, Phil!" He laughed, "Aren't you precious? That's an ambulance – haven't you ever heard an ambulance before?"

"Funny – it's just really loud," Phil said, not smiling at Dan's reply. He seemed concerned about something, "It sounds like it's coming from the left, but there's no road to the left…"

He was right, too. They were travelling along a lengthy, straight stretch of road with no turnings to the left or to the right. There was no way anything could be approaching them from the sides.

"You're probably just too tired and deluded to think straight," Dan grinned, "You'd better go to bed as soon as we get home or you'll start _seeing_ things, too."

Phil still didn't smile.

The siren got louder as Phil's eyes grew wider in what seemed less like concern and more like fear. This was when Dan realised that something was definitely wrong: Phil wasn't just looking _at_ him – he was looking _through_ him.

"Come on, calm down, mate, it's just a-"

"DAN!" Phil yelled, his usually deep voice getting strangely high and his eyes watering in horror as he stared past Dan and out of the taxi window behind him.

Dan turned around in time to see two bright lights speeding towards him. He didn't see anything after that, as his vision blacked out to the sound of his best friend's desperate cries of dread.


	2. Bleach and Cresol

Dan swallowed as he gradually woke, flickering his eyes open to see what was around him.

The last thing he remembered was lying down and seeing lights and sirens all around. He felt no pain, just confusion.

He could hear a steady beep and the ticking of a clock as the time drawled by, accompanied by the distant sound of chattering voices.

His vision was still blurry as he forced his eyelids open and tried to make out where he was.

The walls around him were magnolia, yellowed over time, scraped in numerous places from things bumping into them, and hanging on those walls were cheap, supposedly uplifting, photos and paintings of happy scenes – people laughing and smiling.

The air was stuffy and smelled of bleach, latex, packaged gauze and cresol, a bit like bad cologne.

Dan licked his dry lips and heaved a sigh as he turned his head to stare upwards to the polystyrene ceiling above him.

"Mr Howell?" A gentle voice came from beside him, "Are you awake?"

"Uh… yes…" Dan mumbled, adjusting his vision and sitting up on his shoulders.

"Can you remember your name?" The voice came again. It was a woman, Dan guessed about 30 years old, speaking calmly and comfortingly.

"Daniel James Howell…" Dan told her.

"And your age?"

"25. Turning 26."

"Very good…" the woman said, peacefully.

Dan looked to the side to see that she was a nurse. His eyes widened and he suddenly felt a lot more awake.

"What happened?" He asked, worriedly, his heartbeat speeding up.

"You've been in a car accident, sir," the nurse replied, "A drunk criminal hi-jacked an ambulance and unfortunately crashed into your taxi."

"What time is it?"

"It's 8AM, sir. You haven't been asleep too long. We've been monitoring your heart rate and we've checked you over and nothing seems out of place. You're lucky you don't have any injuries. Some people aren't that fortunate."

"Phil…" Dan breathed, swallowing.

"What was that, Daniel?"

"Phil Lester. My friend – my best friend – is he alright?"

The nurse's face turned solemn and she cleared her throat.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news…" she said, sadly.

"No…" Dan wheezed, sharply taking in a breath.

"Phil hasn't been so… timely…"

"Is he hurt?"

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but…" the nurse sighed, "The doctors say he has only a few hours left."


	3. Flatline

The hospital room was small, stuffy and hot. The first rays of dawn flooded in through the window on the wall to the left, shining down onto the floor and to Dan's feet.

He stood, shakily, his long legs almost giving way beneath him. The nurse was beside him, holding a clipboard and looking very sombre indeed.

"We've tried everything we possibly could to save him," she assured him, "But it's too late. He should be asleep by nine, so you can have your moment."

"What about his family?" Dan asked, quivering, "Do they not get to see him?"

"We called them but there's sadly not enough time for them to get here," the nurse replied, "They'll be coming to the funeral, which should be on Saturday. Phil mentioned he wanted to see you; there's a chair there beside the bed. Keep an eye on the heart rate monitor. When you're ready, you can come back out. I'll let you have your privacy…" and she silently turned to walk down the hallway, closing the door quietly behind her.

Dan gave a drawn-out sigh and swallowed.

The only sounds were the EKG monitor and his footsteps as he headed over to his friend's side and sat down on the chair.

Phil was half-asleep, curled up under the sheets, dressed in an oversized hospital gown and looking a bit worse for wear.

He gave a little smile as Dan sat down and opened his eyes to gaze up to him.

"Hello, Dan!" He breathed, "What time is it?"

"Half past eight," Dan answered, leaning his elbows on his knees and putting his chin in his hands.

Phil gave a happy hum of some kind,

"We have a whole 30 minutes!" He chirped.

"That's not nearly enough," Dan muttered, staring down at the floor, his eyes brimming with tears, "I need a whole day at least."  
"Nah," Phil replied, shaking his head, "The sooner it's over, the sooner you can get back to normal, right?"

"It won't be back to normal," Dan whined, dropping his hands between his knees and looking back up to him, "It'll never be: not with _you_ gone."

"Sure it will. Maybe it won't be exactly the same, but you'll find yourself sometime," Phil smiled, "You'll promise me that, won't you? You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself one day."

"I will," Dan nodded, "I promise."

Phil grinned and unsteadily sat up straight, yawning as he did.

"That's good," he said, closing his eyes for a second and looking very pleased, "How are you? They said you could go home today, didn't they? That must be great."

"It's really not," Dan denied.

"Why not? You don't want to stay here, do you? _Man_ , the food here's _awful_ …"

"I don't want to go home without you, it won't feel right."

"You can take my glasses," Phil sniggered, pointing to the table beside him where his back-rimmed glasses were folded up neatly beside a cup of water, "I won't be needing them, after all."

Dan forced a smile and picked the glasses up to fiddle with them in his hands.

"I have a song in my head," Phil said, folding one of his legs over the other, "Can you guess what it is?" And he started to hum a tune.

Dan blinked and listened, intently,

"I don't know," he said, eventually.

"Oh, _come on_ , Dan, you must recognise it!"

"…Can't quite put my finger on it, no…"

"Would it help if I sang it?"

"Probably, I mean-"  
"Whenever I'm alone, or if I'm feeling grey, there's one place I can go to brighten up my day…"

"Phil…"

"Makes me want to sing; that's how the show should end, but wouldn't it be good if I… could sing it with a friend?"

Dan gave a melancholy grin,

"OK, fine, whatever, I'll join in, too…"

"I might go outside and feel more alive, but without Twitter, where would I be?" Phil chimed in.

"I guess I'd be fit, I'd stop posting rubbish, but tumblr's a part of me…"

"So many websites and so little time, plus one or two you should avoid."

"Just don't stop watching YouTube, or we'll be unemployed!"

"The internet is here…"

"The internet is great…"

"When you've got lots of followers, who needs a real mate?"  
"It might be anti-social-"

"-But these days that is fine-"

"'Cause life is so much better when you spent it all online…" Dan finished, a single tear running down his face.

Phil laughed, his tongue between his teeth, making himself cough on his own breath, and breathed a heavy sigh.

"I'm going to miss you so much, you don't even know," Dan murmured.

"I'd say I'll miss you, too, but I think you realise the irony in that," Phil replied, a sad smile on his face.

Dan swallowed and tenderly reached out to hug his friend. He felt like he had to be extra gentle or he'd somehow shatter him.

Phil wrapped his arms around him and gave a choke. He was weak and was holding onto Dan with all his might but ended up just clinging to him, shakily, as Dan supported him in his arms.

"I don't want you to go," Dan whispered, tears rolling down his face.

"Hey, don't cry, Danny," Phil replied, softly, "Sorry, you don't like people calling you Danny, do you?"

"It's fine," Dan breathed, "You can call me Danny if you want to."

"In the fifteen minutes I have left?" Phil sniggered, "I'll have to fit as many in as I can, won't I, Danny?"

Dan wrapped his arms around him further, his breath staggering.

"Fifteen minutes?" He repeated, "Is that all? It's gone so fast… I don't want to leave."

"When you do…" Phil started, "I need to tell you something. At home, in my top drawer in my bedroom, under all the socks, there's a box. I've been quietly hoarding stuff for years in preparation for… you know… this happening."

"I…"

"I know, it's a bit weird, isn't it? There's a note in there, too, just in case there's something I don't manage to say today. You know what I'm like, I'm so forgetful."

"Thank you, Phil."

"It's alright, I should be thanking you."

"For what?"

"You really don't know? For sticking with me for all this time. How long has it been? 7 years?"

"Yeah…"

"You've been a great friend, Danny. Never think you haven't."

"There's so many more things we could have done…"

"To be fair, I'm quite annoyed I'm never going to get to see the second series of Attack on Titan. You know, if there's any way in the future to bring people back to life, you'll have to tell me all about it."

Dan smiled and sniffed, wiping his nose with his finger, his arm rubbing past Phil's ribs as he did.

"I'm sorry this had to happen," he said, "I should have listened to you, I could have steered the car out of the way, we could have escaped with only a few scrapes-"

"This isn't your fault, Dan; it's not the fault of either of us, nor the hospital. They've done all they can."

Dan sighed,

"Why does it have to be like this?" He choked.

"These things happen, it can't be helped."

And they were both quiet for a while, the only sound the beeping of the heart rate monitor beside them.

Dan looked up to it and bit his lip. The gaps between the beats were getting slower…

"Time's running out," Phil said, "Isn't it?"

"It is," Dan said, pulling him closer.

"You don't have to stay any longer if you don't want."

"I want to."

Phil smiled behind his back,

"Look after our channels for me, won't you?" He asked.

"I will, don't worry," Dan assured him, "And I'm going to keep your name in the gaming channel title."

"Thank you, Danny," Phil hummed, closing his eyes, "Oh, and Dan?"

"Yeah, Philly?"

"Don't be sad for too long, alright? You know that's not what I'd want."

"I know."

Phil gave one last snigger turning his head, weakly to look at Dan,

"Give me one last smile. Go on, you can do it…" he pleaded.

It took all of Dan's strength, but he managed to smile one last time, and the little sparkle in his friend's eyes was, at that moment, the definition of happiness.

Phil yawned and put his head back on Dan's shoulder,

"Goodnight, Dan," he said, quietly.

"Night, Phil."

And the beeping went dead.


	4. A Note To Say Goodbye

When Dan Howell stepped through his front door, he was immediately confronted with the scent of gas. He knew the smell well by now… too well.

He considered calling the gas company but decided that he didn't care; he almost wished the boiler would combust and set fire to the house while he was asleep so he wouldn't have to live alone and might even be able to be buried with his best friend.

He made his way up the two flights of stairs in silence, his face expressionless, he was just in pure shock; it didn't feel like real life, he couldn't think straight.

Pushing open the door to the hallway, he stared down it, dizzily, and saw that both the bedroom doors were open, the sun shining in through Phil's window and out of his door.

Dan decided he'd dig out the box _later_ ; for now, he just wanted to get settled.

He took his shoes and coat off, carried them into his room and put them away, silently.

It was so quiet in the house, it was almost scary.

Sighing, he turned to make his way to the kitchen and pour a glass of water.

He managed not to walk into the glass door – even though he was still a tad dazed – and made his drink before walking, shakily, to Phil's room and standing in the doorway.

He gave a loud sigh and his eyes watered.

There were various items of clothing strewn about on the bed (from the night before when Phil couldn't decide what to wear), including a yellow plaid shirt; the very one Phil wore when they filmed the first _Phil Is Not On Fire_ a day after they met in person for the first time.

Dan placed his glass down on the chest of drawers and took his t-shirt off to put on the shirt. He didn't know why – he just wanted to feel closer to Phil, he supposed.

He had no idea what this 'box' in the drawer was supposed to contain, either, and he almost didn't want to find out – he knew he'd cry when he read the note, too.

But he opened the drawer anyway.

Sure enough, beneath hundreds of pairs of odd socks, there was a little brown box – a bit smaller than a shoebox.

Dan took it in his hands, closed the drawer and sat down on the bed before opening the top and putting it down beside him.

Inside the box was a note written on a sheet of folded A4 paper, the words 'To Dan' written on it, which Dan unfolded and began to read.

 _'Hey!'_ It began, _'If you're reading this, I'm… probably dead. I just thought it'd be nice to leave you a little letter that you could read whenever you felt a bit alone. There's a few things I'd like to mention, requests, like: if they insist on dressing me for burial or whatever and you have my glasses, tell them to put them on me. People always say I look good in glasses, and I want to look my best, don't I? If possible, could you choose your favourite picture of us, too, to have at the funeral? You can have all my clothes if you like, there's no point getting rid of them and you could do with some brighter colours in your wardrobe. And any of my stuff you happen to like, you can hang on to, too. Keep Lion beside your bed and… try not to lose him. Do whatever you want with my bedroom, I don't care, it's not like I'll need it; you can turn it into a gym that you never use, for all I care. Just have fun, alright?_

 _'And Dan? Don't be sad, OK? I've probably told you before but it's important. And if this is your fault, know I forgive you. You're the best friend that I ever had and I thank you for that._

 _'There's a load of stuff I've been hoarding in this box for you to say thanks, so have fun looking through all this. Don't know how old it all is, like, but I don't suppose you'd really care._

'There's not a lot I need to say, really, that I haven't said already, so just remember what I've said before. Don't delete my channel, just do whatever you want with it, make it another of your own channels if you like but whatever you do, don't delete our memories.

 _'One last thing: look on the bright side; at least I won't be eating your cereal anymore, right?_

'Alright, Danny, I'm going to go now (besides, I'm running out of paper), so go and do whatever you want and have fun – remember, don't cry, craft (Sorry, couldn't help myself). Goodbye, Dan.

' _Lots of love,_

 _Philly :)'_


	5. A Shoulder To Lean On

YouNow was the only way Dan could think of to tell everybody the news. He knew it was still early and some people wouldn't see it, but he'd rather only have a small audience instead of thousands.

He hated to be the bearer of bad news and he knew it hadn't been long – only a few hours – but he felt that he needed to inform people as soon as possible.

He opened up his laptop and turned on Google to set everything up.

He waited a few minutes for people to arrive before he cleared his throat and greeted them.

"Hello, internet…" he started, his voice hoarse, his eyes flicking over the chat box.

There were only a few hundred guests in the chat, but they all seemed pretty happy to be there, even if a bit confused. They started to realise something was wrong rather quickly and started to question things.

"I see you realise this isn't my usual… live steaming day… and you might have also realised I'm wearing Phil's shirt. You see, the truth is, I have some _really_ bad news…" Dan coughed.

The chat began to get clearly worried, asking what was wrong and if he was OK.

"I should but it bluntly, really," Dan sighed, "But I'm not sure I can say it. I need you to believe me; this isn't a joke or a prank, this is real…" and he paused as his eyes started to water, "It's about Phil…"

There was an awkward silence as he brought together all of his strength to tell everybody the truth. He didn't know whether he could put it straight without breaking down, but he was going to do his best.

"He's gone," he breathed, "He's dead and gone. Look, I know, I know – I can't believe it, either – and it must be a huge shock for you, too, but I just thought I should tell you. I'm sorry for being so direct, but… it's the only way I could say it."

Nobody said anything for a few seconds before Dan cleared his throat again, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I can't stay, I'm afraid," he said, flatly, "I have to go and… do things. I'll talk to you later and explain a bit more, but right now, I'm going to have a lie down and take it all in. Just don't be too sad, alright? You know he never likes it when people… worry too much… about him. Don't be concerned, I was with him until the end so he wasn't alone, but strangely enough, he didn't seem… sad. It wouldn't be like him if he was, you know? We had a very meaningful conversation and I'll tell you about that later. So just stay put and carry on as usual; we'll get through this together, won't we?" And he gave a weak smile, his voice breaking, "I'll see you all soon, OK? Bye, guys…"

And he ended the live stream to be alone once again.

It wasn't the same anymore.

Everything would resolve itself after a while, he supposed, but for now it was just strange.

Sniffling, Dan turned around to curl up on his bed sheets and think.

He felt that he couldn't cry or else the neighbours would hear him and ask if he was alright and he'd have to explain to them, too. They'd try to comfort him, he knew, but their words would all be in vain; hollow words of reassurance that everything would be OK. Dan didn't want that – not now, at least – he just wanted to be left alone with his thoughts. He didn't want to socialise with anyone ever again, only his best friend, but that was impossible now.

He'd never have anyone to lean on anymore, nobody to hang out with and nobody to live with. He didn't even care about Phil's bad traits anymore – his clumsiness, his midnight cereal-eating, his habit of ruining immersion with inopportune singing – Dan wasn't bothered, he just wanted his friend back.

Their friendship had lasted just over 7 years. It was a good time, Dan supposed, and it really was the most fun he'd _ever had_.

But he only wished they'd had longer. There were so many more things they could have done…

It didn't have to end like this.

It _shouldn't_ have ended like this.

But it did.

Dan sat hugging his knees and breathed a long, drawn-out sigh of exhaustion.

He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself, he _knew_ that, but he couldn't help but lament.

He dried his eyes and choked, loudly.

He could have said something meaningful to comfort himself – something to encourage him to keep on going – but nothing came to mind. He could only think about his loss.

"PHIL!" He called. Nobody heard him, of course, least of all Phil. But he needed to feel like he was talking to him one last time.

He buried his face in-between his knees and cried.

He felt so alone.

Until he heard a voice. It was a familiar voice, he'd heard it before many times – every day, in fact – so he couldn't help thinking he was imagining it, but he didn't _want_ to believe it was in his head, of course.

"What's wrong, Dan?" It asked.

Dan felt the warm feeling of breath gently brushing against his right ear and he bit his lip, his breath staggered.

"You can talk to me, Dan."

"I don't know what to do…" Dan wheezed.

"What? What's happened?" The voice came again. It was one of those voices that had the ability to make you feel so calm whenever you heard it. A soft voice that sounded kind, not cold or harsh in the slightest. It was deep but enthusiastic; open – and not in a fake way, either. It seemed so real.

The accent was… Northern.

"…Phil?" Dan asked, quietly.

"Yeah?"

He gradually lifted his head and looked across to the window. It was dark outside.

Looking to his right, he saw the familiar face of somebody he thought he'd never see again.

"What are you doing?" Dan asked, innocently.

"You called for me," Phil replied, "I came to see what you wanted."

He was sat right there beside him, his hands on the edge of the bed, in-between his legs, and his back arched.

He'd turned on the lamp on the table beside him so the room was lighter.

Dan could see he looked tired, like he'd only just woken up, but also concerned.

Dan stared back to him, confused. Then he realised what had been going on.

"It happened to me, too…" he sighed.

"What did?"

"The- The dream thing. I know what you meant about it now. It's really vivid, isn't it?"

"Oh… yeah, I mean… yeah, it is…" Phil nodded, appearing surprised.

"It felt like it was going on forever," Dan continued, "But I'm glad it wasn't real life."

"Do you want to talk about it? It helped with me."

"Not yet," he answered, shaking his head and leaning on his friend's shoulder.

"OK then," Phil mumbled. He still had rings under his eyes but he seemed somewhat relieved that Dan wasn't having a heart attack or anything of that ilk.

He gave a smile and a gentle laugh before closing his eyes. He'd had something similar happen to him last year and he'd been rather bothered by it so he felt that the least he could do would be to stay by Dan's side until he felt better. That's what friends are for, of course.

Dan wasn't sure if this was even real life. He wasn't wearing a yellow check shirt any more, so it was certainly different, but how was he to know this wasn't a dream?

He'd just have to wait and find out if he ever woke up. No matter; he didn't even care – wherever he could be with his best friend again, he was happy.

As for whether this is actually dream or reality, that's for you to decide.

END

* * *

 **A/N: As you may or may not have noticed, this story was a sequel to _Nightmares,_ one I wrote last year around November time. If you haven't read that one, it doesn't really matter as there's no references or anything, it was only really an excuse to have the same plot twist twice because however hard I may try, I cannot bring myself to the point of killing Phil. But as I said, it's for you to decide whether this can be a dream or whether Dan's back in reality again. Anyway, besides the point, I hope I haven't mentally scarred you for too long, this is Whisker out.**  
 **-Ciao and thank you very much for reading.**


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